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PS 3537 
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1909 
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STORIES OF AN 
OLD DUTCH TOWN 



DON CAMERON SHAPER 




] l i i====Tf===n i — — if==nr== =i i =i i i r= 




TORIES OF 
c^lN OLD 
DUTCH TOWN 



In Verse B/^ 
DON. CAMERON SHAFER 



ROBSON CS. cy^DEE, Publishers 
SchenecJtady, c5N^ew York 



1 



L Jl 






LiBHARYof GONGf?ESc 
Two Copitis Received 

JAN 18 1809 



Copyright, 1909 
by 



I FOREWORD 

These stories of old Schenectady have been carefully selected 
from the traditions, legends and folk-lore of the Holland Dutch 
who so early established the frontier city of Schenectady, N. Y. 
The bits of humor come down to this generation through histories, 
letters, newspaper files, and by word of mouth and while they may 
not, fitted as they are into the more rigid forms of vefse, caress 
the imagination so blithely as though written in prose there can 
be no doubt but these are the very incidents which the early 
inhabitants of the old Dutch town loved to recall over their cups 
or after one of their famous Dutch dinners. 

Don. Cameron Shafer. 
September 9, 1908. 



INDEX 

I The Toiu-he-nick Wedding 11 

II The Dutchman Who Would a Hunting Go 13 

III The Jolly Old Host of Glenville 16 

[V How the Dutch Made Money 18 

V The Language of Holland is Dead 21 

V^T Justice Van der Donk's Daughter 22 

VII When Glenville First Went "Dry" 25 

VTl I Tom Harmon 28 

IX In Old Time Dorp 29 

X The First Tavern In Schenectady 30 

XI The Ballad of Ron-worrigh-wok-qu-na, (The 

Finder-of- Fault) 32 

XII Te-que-se-ra 35 

XIII The Ballad of the Sixpence 36 

XIV Ballade of Ye Ancient Pasture 38 

XV Love vVpples 40 

XVI Old "Sandy** Kelley 41 

XVII How the Dutch Matrons Went Calling 43 

XVIII The Rhyme of an Ancient Man 45 

XIX Old Dutch Toast 47 

XX Old Dutch Nursery Rhyme 47 




2[ljc a[nm-ljc-ttitk OTe^lning 

Author's Note. — In the early days of Schenectady there were no resident ministers and the 
duties of the church were performed by "circuit riders," ministers who rode through the 
country holding services, marriages, funerals, etc. 

H, young Tyerck Honokel de Graf was Dutch — 

As his name would doubtless imply. 
He lived on the bank of Tom-he-nick creek, 

On his little farm by the *Vlie. 
Now all Glenville knew young Tyerck was in love 

With a maid on a nearby farm. 
This Dutch lassie's name was Tennise Von Bolt — 

A maiden of beauty and charm. 
'T is needless to say Tyerck's love she returned, 

For he had both land and a cow ; 
So when he proposed (in Low Dutch of course) 

She promised to be his igoede Vrouzv. 



She promised to be his good wife and true — 

To live in the little log cot, 
Whene'er a preacher rode in from Ft. Orange, 

To tie the hymeneal knot. 
The day came at last — as wedding days do — 

The parson had been notified. 
Young Tyerck, in homespun, sat moody and glum. 

Holding tight the hand of his bride. 
And watching the clouds on Toiver Enne hill — 

In truth it had rained all the week ; 
They were wondering if the parson dare ride 

O'er the ford in Tom-he-nick creek. 



* Swamp or mariby lake. 
f Good wife. 



12 



While they were watching they spied a lean nag 

A-jogging along down the road. 
Mounting the Rev. Harmanus Van Bradt, 

As gaunt as the beast he bestrode. 
Down to the ford rode the Rev. Van Bradt — 

The Tom-he-nick raged like the sea 
Between the lovers and marital bliss : 

Robbing the parson of his fee. 
"Hello !" yells the Rev. Van Bradt, "Hello ! 

I can't make the ford it is plain. 
You better postpone your wedding, I say : 

Next month I will ride here again!" 



• Farmer, 
t Daufihter. 



"Hold on, good father!" cried Tennise. "Hold on!" 

She ran to the bank with her swain, 
"You marry us now, for youth cannot wait. 

Och Hemel! Next month it may rain!" 
The Rev. Van Bradt remembered his fee — 

He needed it sorely that week. 
"Join hands, you Glenville '*een boer and idochter!" 

His voice carried strong o'er the creek. 
Loud rang the words of the Rev. Van Bradt, 

'T was the old Dutch service he read ; 
The "I dos" and "ik vills" came faintly back 

Until Tyerck and Tennise were wed. 
The service closed with a prayer for their souls 

And a kiss tossed cross to the bride. 
Then Tyerck threw over some pieces of gold 

And Van Bradt continued his ride. 




a) 



13 

mit iutrljmatt fflljn Wmih a i^iuUing (^a 



NCE upon an autumn morning 

Sallied forth one Jans Van Corning, 

With dog and gun to hunt along the Mohawk shore. 
He was a Holland weaver lad, 
But had the hunting fever bad, 

Though he had ne'er been gunning in his life before. 



"Oh, it's deer meat you'll be buying," 

Yelled his comrades, just to guy him, 
When they saw Jans passing with little dog and gun. 

"Don't let bears or panthers scratch ye. 

Or the horrid Redskins catch ye!" 
They yelled, "be sure you're headed homeward when you run. 



But these jokes and jibes sardonic 
Could not stop this young Teutonic, 

For Jans just hurried on as though he did not care. 
As he walked along he nnittered : 
"I'll just show them once," he sputtered, 

"That I'm a hunter if I meet a lion or bear!" 



The big wood was dark and dreary. 

Every shadow made Jans "skeery;" 
He held his gun ready despite his shaking knees. 

The faithful dog walked well in front, 

For he actually liked to hunt. 
And wasn't 'fraid of anything that walked beneath the trees. 



14 



Now, when Jans stopped to take account, 

He saw a savage catamount. 
Standing- quite suspiciously on a ledge of rock. 

The Dutchman sneaks a trifle up 

And brings his trusty rifle up, 
Shuts his eyes completely and fires the old flint-lock. 

With a tremendous rumbling roar. 

The gun kicks Jans a-tumbling o'er 
Upon his broad Dutch back beneath the greenwood tree. 

With an awful caterwauling 

Came that catamount a-crawling 
To spring upon the victim of that Dutch fusee. 



With a screechy, shrieking yowling. 

All a-snarling and a-growling, 
Leap'd the panther to the man sprawling in the wreck. 

Then the little dog precocious 

Grabbed the catamount ferocious, 
And fastened his strong teeth deep in the varmint's neck. 



Cat a-scratching, dog a-biting, 

Towards Jans they rolled a-fighting; 
'T was plain without help the dog would die in the trail. 

As they tumbles o'er the Dutchman 

Jans just makes a hurried clutch and 
Grabs the snarling panther by his long and furry tail. 

"Sic him Toby!" yells Jans, "Sic him, 
'Til I get where I can kick him ; 
This is the queerest fix I was ever in. 



15 



But I'll hold him while you choke him; 
Or I find something- to soak him — 
Heads or tails I wonder which one of us will win !'' 

Just then Jans finds a hickory club 

And plays a merry rub-a-dub 
On that big panther's ribs until it gasps for breath ; 

'Til its whole nine lives are lifeless, 

And it's powerful claws are strifeless. 
And the cat's stretched out on the ground quite cold in death. 

Never lived a hunter prouder — 

Never yelled a Dutchman louder 
Than Jans Van Corning when he saw he'd killed the beast : 

"Won't those loafer's be astounded, 

And just a wee bit confounded," 
Says he, "they'll be surprised to see a lion, at least!" 

Walking along quite breezily, 

Carrying his game quite easily, 
Came Jans Van Corning down the little village street. 

Every Dutchman who laughed at him — 

'Every Burgher who chafed at him. 
Drank his beer hurriedly and beat a quick retreat. 





16 

S[l?c Jolly ®lb ioat of (JlEniitllc 



H, Captain John Sanders, old-fashion "Judge" Sanders. 

The jolly old host of Glenville; 
His mansion commanding in Scotia is standing 
Across from the old Binnekill. 
But each time-stained rafter 
Which echoed the laughter 
Of those ancient days is now still. 

This sociable Sanders, this fun-loving Sanders, 

Gave many a party and ball. 
The mansion was lighted and neighbors invited 
To dance in the large dining hall. 
Every matron and maid, 
Every dashing young blade, 
On Captain John Sanders would call. 

And, oh, the sweet maidens, those dimpling Dutch lassies, 

Up-stairs 'neath the candle's soft glow, 
All dimpling and smiling, with laughter beguiling. 
They flirted with every young beau ; 
While old-fashion lunches, 
And hot whisky punches 
Were served to the old folks below. 

And after the luncheon the guests were for dancing; 

The furniture 'way from all harm, 
With laughter they'd greet, the old slave "General Peet" 
His fiddle tucked under his arm. 
Then the wild hurrying — 
Men scrambling and scurrying. 
For maidens of beauty and charm. 



17 



And off in one corner, the figures a-calling, 

In his chair swayed old "General Peet" ; 
His black arm a-shaking the music a-making 
In time for the fast gliding feet. 
His black eyes a-twinkle 
And black face a-\vrinkle, — 
luitranced with the music so sweet. 



"Hunting Squirrel", "Old Sushyea" and "Turkey in Straw" 

With other old favorites he played ; 
While the "Judge" of Glenville led a pretty quadrille, 
With a blushing Schenectady maid. 
From the old-fashion "set" 
To stately minuette 
The dancing was never delayed. 



'Til matrons a-yawning and tall clocks a-striking 

The dancers would cease their gay whirls. 
While garments a-seeking the gallants were speaking 
If they might go home with the girls. 
Each lover and sv/eetheart 
With "good-nights" would depart 
"Mid lausrhter and tossinsf of curls. 



Oh, Captain John Sanders, old-fashion "Judge" Sanders, 

Peace be to your ashes, I say. 
The mansion commanding alone is still standing 
To tell of the company so gay. 
Jolly comrades and slaves 
Have been long in tlieir graves — 
And silent for many a day. 



18 

j^om ^\}t iutclj Malic Mmm 

Author's A^o/e.— Owing to the scarcity of small money in 1790-2 the First Reformed charch 
ofiicials issued "church money" as a circulating medium. This paper money was prinled by 
G. R. and G. Webster of Albany, in one, two, three and fourpence notes. Later a sixpence and 
one and two shilling notes were issued. They were guaranteed by the church and were 
exchanged for gold. 




E talk long of present panics — 

Of markets gone to smash, 
As though our ancient forefathers 

Ne'er knew the want of cash. 
Ahhongh the Wolf, quite in the flesh. 

Hung 'round the cabin door. 
They never knew Want's vulpine fonu 

In those brave davs of vore. 



For the harvests on the lowlands 

Were all that man could wish ; 
With forests full of tasty game 

And rivers full of fish, 
Still, they had their money troubles. 

When cash was hard to find : 
When raw skins were legal tender 

And payments made in "kind." 



It happened in Schenectady 

In seventeen ninety-two, 
That small change was so very scarce 

They didn't know what to do. 
Of course the church folk suffered most 

Collections to enjoin. 
The plate went 'round and 'round and 'round 

And never got a coin. 



19 



They could not bring raw skins to church, 

Or vegetables and such. 
In fact this monetary question 

Bid fair to "beat the Dutch", 
'Til Deacons of the First Reformed, 

(The pastor's pay was due,) 
Met one September afternoon 

In Van Slyck's Inn at two. 

With well-filled i)ipes they sat and thought 

In silence long and drear. 
And then they thought some more and smoked. 

And eke they drank some beer. 
Then finally agreed on a plan, 

A goodly scheme and true, 
Whereby the church would get some cash — 

The Domine his due. 

One rode to Albany next day, 

Before the morning sun ; 
At Webster's ancient printery 

He had some printing done. 
Soon paper money, crisp and fresh. 

Was issued on the street — 
And the panic fold'd up its tents 

And made a quick retreat. 

From one pence up to three and four. 

In colors new and bright; 
Then a crinkly paper six-pence, 

The first time saw the light. 
The people left with those church folk 

Their coin of yellow gold, 
And got it changed to paper script 

Their credit to uphold. 



20 



And on ye Sabbath morning fair, 

After the ushers' trips. 
The silver plates which went around 

Were filled with paper slips. 
And when the pastor saw the sum. 

He preached five hours that day ; 
As soon as the last prayer was done 

He went and drew his pay. 

He drew his pay in paper cash — 

In slips of dififerent hue, 
Then swapped them off for yellow gold 

And thus he got his due. 
'T is hard indeed to beat the Dutch 

At bargaining and trade — 
For when their money once was gone 

Why, they some money "made." 




'«;:; 



31 



5[ljc Eauguagc of ^ollanb is Scab 



Fn 



V j HE Dutch that we spoke in our youth, 

|_.^^ I. ike those ancient costumes rrrown sere. 

^ Sounded simple, vulgar, uncouth, 
t '\vv\ To the Yankee invader's ear. 

y /^\ The New England tradesmen would sneer. 

2LVi At every Dutch word that was said. 

We halt now to drop but a tear — 
The languag-e of Holland is dead. 

They tell of a Dutchman, forsooth, 

Who would not learn English for fear 
It would spoil his Dutch, and, in truth. 

He bragg'd of his Mother Tongue here. 

But he sailed to Holland one year 
And he found he talked dialect instead ; 

Full of Mohawk, guttural and queer — 
The language of Holland was dead. 

The Yankees who came here made ruth 

Of a language fallen and drear. 
English they spoke in mart and booth, 

And Holland Dutch met with a jeer ; — 

They wanted it to disappear. 
In school it was English they read, 

In cities and on the frontier — 
The language of Holland is dead. 

IJUnvoy 
It's English we all like to hear 

When other old dialects have fled. 
Now no one is sorry, 't is clear. 

The language of Holland is dead. 



22 



Juiitici^ Ban let Sutik's iaugljter 




UNDAY with the old-time Dutch was a sacred day ; 

The work and pleasures of the week were laid away, 

For they were forbidden by the rigid laws of "blue", 

And every Burgher of a Sabbath sought his pew 

To listen to the preaching or to sleep, perhaps ; 

Then departed homeward to his old clay pipe and 'K<;chnapps. 

But those who rode to chinch could use the King's Highway, 

For traveling was forbid upon ye Sabbath day. 



Aaron a Yankee was, who carried forth a pack 
( )f jewelry and such things upon his Yankee back. 
I'P the Mohawk valley his numerous wares he sold ; 
Th.en homeward started he with pockets filled with gold. 
Th.rough Schenectady came he on a Sabbath morn, 
Breaking the old Dutch laws wath Yankee thrift and scorn. 
"Mcijn Got," groaned a Deacon of the Dutch church, "I say, 
"See that Yankee traveling upon ye Sabbath day!" 

vSent they for the Constable, with his badge and sword. 

And arrested the man for blaspheming the Lord. 

l>efore Justice Van der Donk the prisoner was hailed. 

Where he could either be severely fined or jailed. 

The Justice was a-sitting quite contentedlee 

With his long pipe and sch.napps beneath an apple tree; 

And as he sat a-dozing in the summer air 

in the house working was his tlaughter young and fair. 

"What you travel Sunday for?" the stern Justice cried. 
"I've sold out and going home," the peddler replied. 



Famous Dutch drink. 



23 

"H'm-m-in", growled the Dutcliman, with a fearful frown, 

"You want to bring God's wrath upon this peaceful town ! 

You stop here 'til tomorrow, else you go to jail. 

Then you make a cloud of dust down the Ft. Orange trail.'" 

Now this penalty did not seem so very bad 

To this stalwart and handsome young New England lad. 

For he had seen Katrina, the daughter young and gay. 
As he laid down his things, and glad he was to stay. 
The Yankee was a prisoner to a Holland maid 
So thanked his lucky stars the journey was delayed. 
Though the father wouldn't let his daughter have a beau. 
(He wanted her to stay at home and work, you know). 
This maiden gave the Yankee all her trusting heart 
And e're the day had gone they'd vowed to never part. 

Katrina had a thousand dollars in the bank. 

Left by her mother for a dowry of rank. 

And this cruel Dutch parent was the sole trustee — 

Trust him not to give it to any bold Yankee. 

So while the two were plaiming to elope thai night 

Aaron was scheming hard to get the cash in sight. 

At last the Yankee offered five shillings to pay 

For Van der Donk's consent to pass by on his way. 

'T is as hard in these days as in the days of old 

For any Dutchman to refuse good Yankee gold. 

Maybe he suspected the Yankee liked his lass, 

For Van der Donk consent'd to sign the young man's pass. 

Then the Yankee wrote, the quill shaking in his clutch. 

One "pass" in good English and one in Holland Dutch. 

To all intents and purposes they were the same ; 

The Justice read the Dutch one and signed each with his name 



24 



Next morning: when the Justice called his daughter fair,. 

No answering response came softly down the stair ; 

So he roused the neighbors, they hunted high and low, 

But never found the daughter or her Yankee beau. 

To old Van der Donk a strange letter came one day : 

■' "T is from mine daughter," cried the Judge, "who ran away 

"To marry that yokel and your last guilder bet 

"Not a single cent of that dowry will she get!" 

With face red with anger the irate parent took 
The letter from the neighbor, out of it he shook 
A statement of his accoimt in the Albany bank. 
"A thousand gone !" he cried and in a faint he sank 
When he saw the order, all signed by him to pay 
The dowry to his daughter who was wed that day. 
Thus did a Yankee win both dowry and maid 
And best her wilv Dad at barter and at trade. 




25 



en a^lenttille 3Itat Wmt " ir^ 




OW alcohol's banished and taverns have vanished 

Within Glenville township border. 
An election crusade now they drink lemonade, 

(And kegs from Schenectady order.) 
This whisky defeating was history repeating 

For Glenville went dry long before ; 
And this is the story, in plain allegory, 

From out of historical lore. 



Along the town's occupants were Irish immigrants 

Who came into Glenville one day ; 
On the Wolf Hollow road they cheerfully abode, 

In little log huts by the way. 
They raised tubers and pigs and were radical Whigs, 

Like every true son of the Isle; 
For fighting and frolic and things alcoholic 

Thev had the Dutch beat bv a mile. 



And among them there dwelt a graybearded old Celt 
Who potato whisky could make. 

So he sat up a still in the town of Glenville 
And opened it up with a wake. 

(Dh. the boose that he brewed was volcanic and crude- 
It tasted of tubers and oil. 

And each sparkling bubble was filled full of trouble. 
While a drink would start a mad broil. 



But this whisky "fireish" just suited those Irish — 
They each drank a quart every day. 



26 



On holidays and such they would all drink too much 

And pummel each other away. 
With their systems quite filled with this trouble distilled 

Through Glenville they'd stampede at night, 
With shillalahs flying and curses a-crying 

A-looking for Dutchmen to fight. 

Now the Irish and Dutch love each other too much 

To live in peace and in quiet. 
This quarrelling and fighting, this gouging and biting, 

Made one continuous riot ; 
'Til one August morning, without any warning, 

A thoroughly determined Dutch dame 
In grim emulation of Mrs. C. Nation 

Of latter day history and fame. 

Unknown to the patrons led forth some Dutch matrons 

To destroy the troublesome still. 
With hatchets clutched tightly and stepping quite lightly 

Fared forth these Dutch dames of Glenville. 
The Celts had partaken too much to awaken 

When they broke the door with a crash : 
A candle was lighted and nothing was slighted 

But everything broken to smash. 

Without any stopping they kept right on chopping 

And spilling the whisky around, 
Then before they retired the building was fired 

And it burned right down to the ground. 
One Celt superstitious heard a noise suspicious 

As homeward he came in the dawn. 
And he afterwards swore he saw witches a score 

Following a big *leprechawn. 



Evil spirit of Irish folk lore. 



27 



Now the Irish won't stay where the wierd witches play, 

Or goblins make merry and jest. 
A-packing they started and quickly departed, 

Up the trail towards the wild west. 
And the ruins of the still can be seen in Glenville 

To vouch for the truth of this tale. 
But if you go near it and ask for the "spirit" 

The Justice will lodge you in jail. 




28 



2[om J^armott 




ESIDE the Public Hay Market 

Oil lower Union street, 
Tom Harmon, the Weight Master, stood. 

A load of hay to meet. 
Now Tom Harmon had surrendered 

To Old King Alcohol, 
Though once a lawyer well-to-do 

He worked like any thrall ; 
And every sixpence he received 

For weighing of the hay, 
For whisky at a nearby inn 

He spent it all straightway. 
Full long he stood a-waiting there. 

Too thirsty e'en to talk, 
A-watching those ancient oxen 

Come creeping at a walk. 



Now back and forth Tom Harmon paced 

Across the old platform, 
Then raised his hat and wiped his brow — • 

The summer air was warm. 
Still slower came the toiling beasts — 

It seemed they most stood still. 
Far "dryer than a covered bridge" 

Tom Harmon stood until 
With patience ended quite he gasjis. 

As fate his dry throat mocks : 
-My God, Joe Carley ! Only look. 

How slow a thing's an ox !" 



29 



ain ffilb-J5tmc iotji 



Author's Note. — The favorite amusement of young men in the early days of Schenectady was 
to deplete the hen-roosts of the neighborhood for mid-night feasts. 




N old-time Dorp, of long ago, 

Those Holland Dutch, the day yet bright, 
Would lock the chicken coop up tight; 

While stock was left for friend or foe. 

Great care they took of fowls, as though 

They feared sometime a mid-night flight ; 
In old-time Dorp. 



Those old Dutchmen were not so slow ; 

They knew young men, e're it was light, 
Were wont to rob the roosts at night 

To hold a feast by campfire's glow — - 
In old-time Dorp. 




30 



5fl|e 3Iirat 5[aucrn in ^tljcttectal^g 




O yoiT know that Ackes Cornelise Van Slyck 
Ran the first little tavern, "The Sign of the Pike", 
Where a Dutch Burgher could find good victuals to eat 
Or spend a few guilders his old comrades to treat? 
For the cellar was full of fine sausage and kraut. 
And barrels of brown ale, Holland gin and good stout. 
The mugs were of pewter, there was sand on the floor ; 
And you ran up a bill it was chalked on the door. 

Oh. the rug-a-chug-chugs of the old pewter nuigs, 
As each Dutchman emptied his stein, 
Kept barmaids a-going, 
Brown ale a-flowing, 
From kegs to the tables of pine. 



When Albany fur traders came out of the west. 
They haul'd up their birch canoes and stopped for a rest 
And a mug of cool ale at the little Dutch inn — 
Or if the weather was cold they drank Holland gin. 
And young German lads from the flats of Schoharie, 
After their purchasing with Van Slyck would tarry. 
To join with the travelers in general debate. 
Discussing the issues of each borough and state. 

Oh, the ratty-tat-tattle of the watchman's rattle — 
They gave small heed to the warning; 
Those boisterous, roisterous chaps 
Who sang over their schnapps 
'Til wee sma' hours o' th' morning. 



Sometimes the wild Mohawks from their castle would come 
To barter their peltries and fresh game for good rum. 



31 

With three drinks of whisky they'd be shouting for France 

And in the Httle bar room they'd do the war dance. 

They would top off their load with a pint of mixed ale 

And defy all the soldiers to put them in jail. 

Then Van Slyck would yell out, when they made too much 

noise : 
"Donder und blitzen ! Rouse mid ter dam Iroquois !" 

Such slashing and crashing and furniture smashing, 
When the Whites sailed into the Red ; 
Then the Dutchmen victorious 
Would get good and glorious, — 
And the Watch would put them to bed. 




32 



3[ljc ISallaJi of Sott-uiornglt-iuok-gu-tta 
S[I)e 3Itnb^r-of-3Iault 




HIS is the ballad of Ron-worrig-h-wok-gu-na. 

Signifying "Alan-With-a-Grouch", 
Who lived with his tribe in Con-nis-ka-yu-na. 

Where he sat on a bearskin conch 
In a ])essimistic fault-finding flinik 

A-grumbling from morning 'til night. 
His body was wrinkled, dried-up and shrunk 

And filled to the eyebrows with spite. 
Mis one pleasure was to find fault and jaw. 

Or cackle out "I told you so!" 
Re sjjanked the i)apo(3se and beat up his squaw 

And bored all the tribe with his woe. 



He grumbled when Sachems sold land to the Whites, 

And kicked if the payment was rum; 
Then drank the liquor and talked Indian Rights, 

While croaking of troubles to come. 
1 le said it just gave his old soul a wrench, 

And made him exceedingly sad, 
W'ay they were running the war witli the French — 

The army was all to the bad. 
The country, he said, was swarming with s])ies 

Who thronged in each city and tow^n. 
And kei)t the Frenchmen exceedingly wise 

To the campaign rim by the Crown. 



It hapi)ened one day, so history relates, 
That a spy came down from Quebec 



33 



To inspect Schenectady's fortress and gates 

At the risk of his body and neck. 
He came in town by Conniskayuna, 

(Meaning Great Fields of Corn), 
Past the hut of Ronworrighwokguna, 

Hungry, tired and forlorn. 
The Fault-Finder lay too ugly to sleep — 

Outside he heard the leaves crackle. 
Getting up he saw an Indian creep 

To the house of Jans Von Brakkle. 



A true Hollander was Jans Von Brakkle 

Who loved his good pipe and his ease. 
He invited the Indian to tackle 

A huge wooden bowl of stewed pease. 
Good feeder himself the Dutchman stood by 

And watched the barbarian eat ; 
Not suspecting he was feeding a spy 

Who was hollow down to his feet. 
'T was plain that the Indian's appetite 

Had grown all way from Quebec ; 
They say the food that he put out of sight 

Lacked not a split pea of a peck. 



"Meijn Got", groaned the Dutchman, "Meijn lieve Got! 

'T is hungry you goes from mine house ! 
Und youse come again a skipple I'll pot, 

Und open a keg of pig-souse." 
Outside the hut stood the Finder-of-Fault, 

An eye to a crack in the wall ; 
He recognized the guest as Jules Renault, 

A half-breed spy from Montreal. 



34 



With a thankful grunt the spy started out 
On the Dorpian trail post-haste; 

The Grumbler followed bemoaning about 
"A peck of good pease gone to waste!' 



Alone sat the Dutchman, hungry and sad ; 

He took up a notch in his belt : 
"Der teiifel," he moaned, "I thinks he feel pad. 

Mid all of dot under his pelt." 
Just as he spoke something thumped on the- tloor 

And bounced around on the planks, 
And a voice yelled in through the open door : 

"Reworrighwokguna asks no thanks 
For bringing the head of your Eater-of-Pease. 

Food is wasted when death is nigh : 
Better a Dutchman sat taking his ease 

Than wasting good pease on a spy !" 



35 



^t-qm-Bt'tn 




±S 



OHAWK Wan-Kji-s 

Oft did seek 
'e-que-se-ra — 

"Color Creek", 
To dig the red cla}' 

For face paint — 
Tribal costume, 

Old and quaint. 



Oone forever 

The red men, 
Who dug red clay 

In the glen, 
By the chasm 

of the rill — 
Te-que-se-ra, 

In Glenville. 




36 

5[lje ffiallab of tlje ^ixprucc 



11. Coonrad Von Horn ran a little Dutch Inn, 

He called it the "No Morning After", 
And this is the tale that his jolly comrades told 
O'er their mugs of brown ale as they sat there of old, 
And they told it with boisterous laughter: 

It happened that Van Horn was a-going away. 

With a party of friends to hunt deer, 
So he hired a Dutch yokel, so stupid and dense 
He couldn't tell a fi'penny bit from sixpence. 
To supply the Dutch Burghers with beer. 



"Now der fivepence you see has der vooman's head. Yohn,' 

Von Horn explained in a simplified way, 
"Und der piece midout der voomans, now understand, 
Is der silver sixpence I hold here mid mine hand ; 
Bier is threepence, be sure of der pay." 

"Yah ! Yah", answered Yohn, for his memory was fine, 

" 'T is sixpcnse midout der vooman's head." 
Cautioning him to watch the Yankees without fail 
Von Horn departed with his friends a-down the trail. 
Leaving Yohn repeating what he said. 

Now it ha])pened a Yankee much given to drink. 

Had heard the brief lesson rehearsed. 
For he was the first drunkard, 1 write it with shame. 
And he had just a three penny bit to his name. 

And a gigantic, perpetual thirst. 



37 

He lurched to the bar with a satisfied chuckle — 

Though his laughter was mirthless and strange ; 
And he laid down his threepence and drank up his beer, 
While Yohn looked for the "vooman", which did not appear. 
And handed him back three pennies change. 

And thus it continued through the long autumn day, 

The sharp Yankee kept drinking his sack ; 
Yohn watched for the "vooman" to make no mistake. 
Then took in the silver with an impatient rake 

And always gave three pennies back. 

It was late in the evening when Von Horn returned 

Awful thirsty and tired from the hunt. 
And he drank a big beer e're he opened the till : 
*'Och ! vot is dese here, Yohn," he cried, "dat seem to fill 

Der cash draw from der back to der front?" 

"Sixpences," answered Yohn. "der trade sure has been fine." 

"Sixpences." echoed Coonrad Von Horn. 
"'Dander iind blifccn! You take all dose for sixpence! 
From who. hein?" he bellowed in sudden violence. 

"Och. I'm ruined as sure as 3-our born!" 

"I take dem from der tall fellow mid der viskers 
Who drink mid himself all der long day." 

Answered the yokel with Dutch innocence sublime. 

"Der teufel! You give him der right change every time?" 
"Yah, Yah, he vas all der time goot pay." 

''Der teufel catch der scheming Yankees!" groaned \\m Horn 

As he counted his pile of threepence. 
While with a load that defied all gravitation 
Lay the Yankee in frightful inebriation 

Fast asleep beside his cottage fence. 



38 



lallalie of ^t ^ntltnt pasture 



Author's Note. — Less than a hundred years ago that portion of the city above Barren fitreet 
wa§ a common cow pasture. 




OD speed thee mine Ancient Father, 

And give thee a good day, 
Wherefore now the cause, I pray you, 

So sadly here you stay? 
And why do you keep such gazing 

Forever up the street? 
What kind of beast or man be it 

That you do hope to meet?'' 



"Chill tell thee by my halidome 

That sometime thou hast known, 
Zome vair and goodlie pasture lande 

With meadow grasse well grown, 
ft was a place where cows did feede, 

And other stock as well — 
Each morn and night, a-down ye streete, 

They walked with tinkling belle." 



"Alas, I must tell thee, Father, 

In truth and veritie, 
Why this fair and goodlie pasture 

Thou canst not now days see. 
Here in this spot, beyond the park. 

The ancient pasture lay 
W'here all these rows of buildings stan<l 

Along the street tcxlay." 



39 



"Ah, ah, I know thee now my niann ; 

Quite plainhe do I zee, 
A low fellow of mean learning- 

That thou art cozening me. 
For how could so large a pasture 

Be hid by buildings now ! 
Why, it was onlie yesterday 

I hither drove mv cow !" 



"Then I must tell thee, Good Father. 

And you must understand, 
That pasture vanished long ago — 

And eke some other land. 
This town has grown to thrice its size, 

And spreads out year by year — 
Though you walked to Niskayuna 

No cowbells would vou hear." 




J19 



Enuc Applts 



V7 




N the gardens, 

Long ago, 
'Mid the flowers 

Used to grow- 
Fair "Love Apples", 

Crimson red. 
They were poison, 

So 't was said ; 
Good to see bnt 

Not to eat — 
These "Love Apples' 

Fair and sweet. 



Cries the vendor 

On the street : 
"Ripe tomatoes, 

Red and sweet !" 
Never knowing 

That he sells 
The "Love Apples", 

History tells, 
Were thought poison 

Long ago — 
Just the common 

Tomato. 



41 



T\^U 



d^Jis 




OW "Old Sandy" Kelley was Scotch he was ; 

A Presbyterian faithful and true. 
His body was raw-boned, rugged and lank, 

And his hair an autumnal hue. 



'"Sandy" by trade was a mason, he was, 

And for six long days he would work ; 

The seventh he'd rest, as good Christian should, 
And go to the little stone "kirk" ; 



Where the minister preached four hours, he did, 

Of hell and its horrors of fire; 
Oft he did pray for a half-hour, or more, — 

There was neither music nor choir. 

"Old Sandy" helped with the singing, he did, 
In a full voice, blurry and strong. 

But still the singers would get out of tune 
And discord would mar the whole song. 

'Til the parson a "pitchpipe" bought, he did. 
To catch and to hold every note 

And keep the singing harmonious, and good, 
Even from "Sandy's" rugged throat. 



Next Sabbath "Sandy" went to church, he did. 

And sat in the very front pew, 
Ready to join in the opening hymn 

Soon as the parson read it through. 



42 



When he heard the "pipe" "Sandy" jumped, he did, 
And yelled as he raced to the door : 

"Hoot! Hoot! Awa' wi' your box o' whistles!" 
And never went back any more. 

I wonder if "Sandy" could go, could go, 
A-down to the "kirk" what he'd say 

When the choir sang a hymn, softly and low. 
And he heard the pipe-organ play. 



D 



Wlh Sutcit JJursmi Illume 

AAR was een boertjc Van Welsveen, 
Eeen boertje van Hazereswon ; 
Het Kaefje was zoo erg ziek 
Daarover droeg hij rouw. 
Och ! baertje. en schreit niet 
Plet kaefje met zijn bonte rok 
Lag s'morgen dood in het hok." 

Freely Rendered : 

There was a little farmer Van Welsveen, 

A little farmer of Hazereswon ; 

His little calf was very sick 

Causing him great sadness. 

Oh ! little farmer do not cry. 

The calf with its pretty coat 

This morning lays dead in its pen. 



43 




^om t\}t iutclj llattotta Went dj^alltttg 



HEN the wives of sturdy Burghers 

Went to call upon a neighbor, 

Took they their work v;ith them and staid 

All the long winter afternoon. 

At one the Dutch matrons would leave 

Their snug little gable-roofed cots, 

One carrying a sewing basket ; 

Another a bag and her knitting ; 

While perhaps another good ^vroiizif, 

Carrying a small spinning wheel, 

Would be by a black slave followed. 

Cleanly and fashionably clad they were ; 

Wearing French high-heeled shoes with buckles ; 

Blue stockings, with a gore of white 

On either side of the ankle; 

A callimanco petticoat ; 

A chintz short gown, with black ribbon 

Around the waist ; checkered apron ; 

A high-crowned cap of dainty white. 

While outside hung a large pocket 

From a belt, rich with patch working. 

At a neighbor's home they'd gather 

To sit and spin and knit and talk — 

For Dutch dames were great gossipers. 

At four o'clock luncheon was served 

On the round table, carefully spread 

With the whitest of homespun linen. 

And bedecked with shiny silver. 

Among other dainties they served 

Black tea, maple sugar, pot cheese. 

Plates of butter, olykoecks, waffles, 



44 



Kullas and numerous Dutch goodies. 

Then the smiHng- hostess would say : 

"Kom u vromvle sit uzve hij!" 

And each hinigry guest would sit down. 

While a slave girl passed two teapots, 

One of hot water, one of tea. 

After the refreshments eaten 

Each dame would return to her cot. 

Picking her way along the street ; 

Stopping to speak to a neighbor ; 

Making a small purchase or two 

At the stores she passed on her way. 

But ever hastened she homeward 

In time to get the evening meal 

For the men, returned from their work. 




45 



af{|e lljiimc of Kn Kntitnt Matt 



IITjAR from shirking I was working, heedless of the flying 
' time ; 
Type keys clacking, brain cells racking, pounding out 

this bit of rhyme; 
When I heard a noise behind me as I stopped a while to scan, 
And I whirled about astonished to find an ancient man. 
He was smiling most beguiling as though laughing at my fears, 

In his prehistoric costume dating back three hundred years, 
And his wrinkled face just twinkled as he sank into a chair. 

"Who are you", I cried, "why came you here to give me such 
scare ? 
I'm quite perplexed and somewhat vexed that you interrupt this 
tome, 
But now you're here you ghostly Dutchman just make your- 
self at home !" 
He just snorted and retorted in the purest of Low Dutch : 
"Though I'm hoary I've a story, though it really ain't so much. 
I went sailing and a-whaling, and I worked some at the bench, 

'Til 1656 when I soldiered 'gainst the wicked French. 
Though quite plucky, most unlucky, I was always getting shot ; 
'Til half o' me, don't laugh a me, was human and half was not. 



It was then I settled down in Niskayuna with a wife; 

Most alarming kind o' farming, with the Indjuns full o' strife. 

Without warning one fine morning, I'd been out late with th' boys, 

I found myself quite surrounded with a band o' Iroquois. 
With such shooting and such hooting I was close to getting hurt, 

Though I wore a suit o' Spanish mail beneath my leather shirt. 
They surrounded me astounded when they see I wouldn't die, 
And the painted chief near fainted when I handed him an eye. 



46 

It was glassy, somewliat passe, but it frightened him for fair. 
Then still bowing and pow-wowing I just passed him out my hair. 

They were the scaredest lot of Injuns in all the Mohawk land. 
When I halts there with my false hair all a-dangle in my hand. 

Then I strikes my knife into my leg just as hard as I could — 
Such knavery they thought bravery (not knowing it was wood) ; 
And then I takes and up and breaks my left arm agin' a tree 

And hands the splintered fragments to the old Injun nearest 
me. 



At such revels those poor devils were afraid they'd come to harm ; 
They were shaking and a-quaking. (though it was a waxen arm). 

But when I snatched my false teeth out and held 'em in my 
hand 
All astounded and confotmded the chief Injun of the band, 
Without speaking took to shrieking, then he topples over dead, 

While every remainin' warrior dropped his tomahawk an' 
fled. 
And from that day to this. I say, Injuns ne'er gave me a start — 

They thought me an evil spirit, who coidd take himself apart. 

You're dis])Uting and confuting this peculiar tale I know; 

Though not caring I am swearing every word of it is so !" 

Then 1 hastened to assure him that I doubted not his word. 
Though it was the most unlikely tale that I had ever heard. 

I was thinking he'd been drinking some old sans^aree, perhaps, 

But he uttered, rather muttered, "that he'd only had some 
schnapps." 
And there we sat a-talking until the breaking of the dawn. 

All a-shiver and a-quiver, when I waked up he was gone. 



47 



VT 




mh iutclj 5[nafit 

ONG may you live; 
Much may you give; 
Happy may you die, 
And inherit the Kingdom 
Of Heaven bye and bye. 




- -vj RIP, a trop, a trontjes. 

De varkens in de boontjes ; 

De koetjes in de klaver; 

De paarden in de haver; 

De eendjes in de water-plas ; 

De kalf in de lang gras; — 

So groot mijn kleine poppet je was. 



Freely Rendered : 

Trot, trot, trot, on your little throne. 
The piggies are in the beans ; 
The heifers are in the clover ; 
The horses are in the oats ; 
The ducklings are in the pond ; 
The calf is in the long grass; — 
So big is my little darling. 



m 1^ ^"^ 




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018 39,"«iili » 



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